Chase These Shadows Away
by The Crownless Queen
Summary: Hermione doesn't have a father - it doesn't matter. Still, she can't help but to think about it, about him, as she's about to marry Ron.


**Chase These Shadows Away**

Hermione doesn't think it should be possible to miss something you've never really had. And, to tell the truth, she rarely does.

Her mother is enough – she's the one who raised a brilliant little girl more interested in books than people, a Muggle single-mother who was responsible for a magical child. Hermione's never known who her father was, and her mother never hid from her that she didn't know either, but it was fine with her. Her mother's love really is more than enough for her.

Still, there are moments when she can't help but wonder what her life could be like if she had a father by her side, what his presence in her life could have changed.

 _(she used to pretend sometimes, as a kid, when she had a report card to show her parents, that her father was there too, ruffling her hair proudly like she had seen other dads do to their daughters)_

With her incoming wedding, it's no surprise that those quiet moments of reflection catch up with her.

"I would be honored to escort you down the aisle," Harry tells her with a touched smile when she asks, because he's her best friend, more than that, he's family, and if she can't have her father, she wants to have the man she considers her brother in all but blood. "Are you sure you don't mind, though? I know-" _you miss your father_ , he doesn't say, but Hermione can read it in his eyes anyway.

"It's fine," she smiles tightly.

Harry takes a long look at her, but he finally nods, relenting.

In the end, it's Ron who corners her a few weeks before the reception. Between their work and the conflicting schedules that come with them, and rebuilding from the war, it seems at times like they've barely had a moment to themselves since he proposed.

Their mothers had formed some kind of unholy alliance to plan the perfect wedding, and every moment not spent working has been sent trying on dresses, tasting cakes or discussing the location and who to invite.

They're savoring one of the rare moments of respite their busy schedule leaves them by having a picnic in a park not far from her house. The sun is shining and the air is warm against her skin, but what she prefers is the way Ron's hair looks like it's on fire, and the way his eyes never quite leave her body.

"Why haven't you ever looked for him?" He finally asks as they're finishing one of the cake samples they had brought back to taste.

 _Too much chocolate_ , Hermione notes in her head, before his question finally registers.

She doesn't need to ask who _him_ is. There's only one person he could be referring to – her father, the man she has never known.

Hermione sighs, putting her plate down. She laughs softly, slightly bitter. "Some things are better left unknown, Ron. Besides, if my own mother doesn't know who he is – what chances do I have?"

He gives her a knowing look. "Come on, Hermione. I know how good you are at researching obscure magical subjects – you can't seriously expect me to believe that finding your father would be harder than that."

"Maybe I just don't want to know," she says back, trying to keep her tone even. It's not easy, considering the way her heart feels too tight for her chest.

"You, not wanting to know something? Who are you, and what have you done with my fiancé?" Ron laughs, putting a hand on his chest like he's just been given a great blow.

Hermione scowls, trying to pretend her lips aren't twitching up into a smile at his behavior.

The truth is, she had looked. Eight and too curious for her own good, she had rummaged through her mother's old things until she had found an old jeweled diary.

At first, the entries had been old – far older than Hermione – but toward the end… Toward the end, the entries had been written during her birth year, some about nine months before, and the rest stretching into the pregnancy.

There had been three names written in her mother's tiny handwriting that fit with the period her books had told her she had been conceived in.

Three names for three men who could be her father.

Three men her mother had loved passionately for one whirlwind of a festival and then left behind, and Hermione had realized then that she didn't really want to know which one was her father.

She had been scared then, an irrational kind of fear that had crept at the back of her mind since then.

 _What if_ , it seemed to whisper _, what if you end up like her, unable to love for anything but short, overwhelming bursts of intense feelings? What if you are doomed to repeat your mother's mistakes, what if this is in your genes?_

She is still scared of that now, even though she knows she loves Ron with all her heart and soul. She is scared of knowing – that it will change things, and she desperately doesn't want things to change.

"It's not that," she reassures Ron. "I just…" She licks her lips, trying to find a way to explain it, "I think this should remain a mystery. It's better that way, trust me."

She shoots him a pleading look, and she can see the moment he caves in.

"Of course. Whatever you want," he replies softly, his eyes loving. He still looks concerned though. "But if you change your mind…"

"I'll let you help, yes," she laughs, trying to feign happiness.

Something shifts in Ron's eyes. "You already know who he is, don't you?" He whispers, and it is not a question.

The guilt she feels makes swallowing a hard task. "Yes," she confesses, and it feels like a death sentence. Tears catch in her eyelashes, and the sun, moments ago so bright and warm, now feels overwhelmingly hot, its warmth an unwelcome pressure on her body.

Ron wraps his arms around her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't – I shouldn't have pushed."

She lets out a strangled bark of laughter. "It's fine, really. I swear."

Ron just hums softly against her hair, and slowly the guilt dissolves.

"I didn't mean to lie," she explains quietly. "It's just… Easier to pretend I still don't know, you know? I mean, I'm not even supposed to, I only know because I found mom's journal and read it even though I shouldn't have…"

The story comes out in quick bursts after that.

Once she had had the names, finding more had been easy, and just a matter of time. She had been scared, yes, of being like her mother, scared that if she looked into this more it'd reveal that part of her, because even if she loved her mother, even if the woman was a great mother, Hermione didn't think she'd have been a great wife or that she could be.

But Hermione had always been too curious for her own good, as her mother always says fondly, and once she had known, once she had gotten a clue, once the idea that she could actually _find_ her father had been planted in her brain, she hadn't been able to let go of it.

It had taken her years, but with magic she hadn't even needed to talk to them to get DNA. She had simply waited too long once she had gotten the results.

"They say it was a car accident," Hermione says, "but the dates don't match. I checked and-" her voice chokes up, but she can tell Ron already knows what she's about to say from the way his arms tighten around her.

"There was a raid, wasn't there?" He asks.

Hermione just nods.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too," Hermione replies, not even sure what she's apologizing for anymore.

She just feels Ron smile, his chin resting atop her head.

They stay that way until the sun dips down behind the canopy of trees that circle the park, mostly silent, savoring the moment.

It hits her as the get up to leave, how unspeakably grateful she is for Ron's presence in her life, for his love.

 _(she's not like her mother)_


End file.
